


Kintoki-sama

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: ... except the Plot snuck in, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys in Pretty Clothes, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pairings to be added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ritual Phrases, Sentient Shigure Kintoki, Sky Scramble | Sky Battle, Varia Arc, When in Doubt: Kill Bakamitsu, Xanxus's Filthy Mouth, casual discussion of patricide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: “… you’re not Takeshi-kun.”“What gave me away?” The lean body is pressed against his is eager, cock hard, and breath teasing at the back of his neck. “I borrowed his form perfectly, down to the length of the cock pressing into you, tenjō-tama.”
Relationships: Gokudera Hayato/Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato/Sawada Tsunayoshi/Shigure Kintoki, Ricardo | Vongola Secondo/Sawada Tsunayoshi/Xanxus, Sawada Tsunayoshi/Shigure Kintoki, Sawada Tsunayoshi/Xanxus
Comments: 106
Kudos: 358





	1. Chapter 1

“… you’re not Takeshi-kun.”

“What gave me away?” The lean body is pressed against his is eager, cock hard, and breath teasing at the back of his neck. “I borrowed his form perfectly, down to the length of the cock pressing into you, tenjō-tama.”

“Takeshi-kun is almost as much Hibari as he is Asari, Kintoki-sama. You’re purely Asari, and my Flames can tell the difference. And Takeshi-kun hasn’t figured out what his pretty cock’s for, either.”

“That would explain why he’s been keeping my pretty saya away from me. Silly boy; the Hibari blood in him must be slowing his development. I expected him to bring you to me _months_ ago. To bind me to my purpose; to ensure he and I will always be able to find and aid you, no matter what tries to separate you from us. Properly bound, we should be able to follow even through that infernal bazooka of your infant Lightning.”

“Hiiieee. Bonded?!”

“I’d rather assumed that my wielder’s cousin would already have demonstrated what it meant to be claimed and bonded, tenjō-tama. I need to sheath myself in you; I will make it good, I promise.” Kintoki-sama presses a kiss to his throat again. “I’ll make you _crave_ it.” 

He shivers in confused distress; he wasn’t sure what his Rain’s sword _meant_, other than that the feel of his - Kintoki’s? Takeshi’s? - cock against his back made him feel hot and good, and like he was about to catch fire and enter Dying Will Mode even without one of Reborn’s bullets. Slippery, clever fingers toy with his own cock, and then press lower, rolling his balls in his hand gently.

“Roll on your front for me, pretty tenjō-tama, and spread your legs as wide as they’ll go so I can play with my pretty little sheath and get it ready for its new resident.” He complies, confused, and then shrieks when something hot and wet makes contact with skin he had no idea was so very sensitive, and what the hell was the sword-spirit licking him _there_ for?! “Relax, pretty tenjō-tama. A little work will make this hole a very sweet sheath for myself and my wielder. It’ll feel very, very good; my previous protectees, male and female, have adored taking the role for us.” 

Kintoki presses his tongue back to his hole again, lapping at it, making him squirm in incoherent pleasure as the sword-spirit coaxes the muscles to relax with aching slowness until his tongue is dipping inside, over and over again. The tongue becomes a tongue and two fingers, making him feel stretched and open, hot and needy and desperate, though he still doesn’t understand what for.

“Such a submissive, receptive sweetheart, tenjō-tama. The only way you could be more perfect for us would be if you knew how to forge children for me.” He makes a small, needy noise, and several fingers are added in place of the tongue, stretching him so wide he feels breathless. The fingers stroke in and out of his body, each thrust pushing a little deeper, making his muscles stretch a little wider, until the stretch hurts and he whines. “Shhh. So very good. You did so well for a virgin; a little more and Takeshi and I will both be able to slide inside you together. But for now you’ve taken enough that your breaching is going to be sweet and easy and that’s an excellent thing, tenjō-tama. I have no intention of being unsheathed more than I absolutely must be.”

He makes a small squeak, and the fingers inside him - such a weird concept - spread briefly before Kintoki curls them together and pulls them out. He feels empty, hollow, miserable and broken, but then Kintoki-sama presses his hands to his hips and there’s a blunt pressure at the sensitive place he’d worked open. He mewls and then he’s being filled again and he goes absolutely limp while it slides inside him, filling him too full, stretching him more than the four fingers that had spread him open, and he pants and begs.

“So good for me, pretty tenjō-tama. Do you like being my pretty saya? I think you do; you’re so sweet and tight and slick around my cock.” He makes a small sound and Kintoki-sama grinds in deep, and his muscles ripple in confused reaction; they’ve never had something so big splitting them apart for so long without well, something happening in response. “Oh, that felt good, sweetheart. Do that again for me. Let your body take over and do what it wants with your pretty sheath. It’ll soon learn my shape and how to take me best, and then we’ll move on to teaching it why twice the cock can be more than twice the fun. After all you wouldn’t want to leave my pretty wielder out of the fun, would you?”

“Hiii -“ the sound is fucked out of him, the first true, rolling thrust; it burns, like his Flames do just before his Will ignites, the way they’ve started to burn even before Reborn shoots him, the way Dino tells him is the first stage of not needing Reborn as a crutch, and he pants. Kintoki-sama pushes back in, the thrust going on forever, drawing the rest of the sound out of him, a low plaintive plea for something he doesn’t fully understand. That plea gets him a hand around his cock, and a low chuckle.

“You don’t understand what I’m doing at all, do you, pretty tenjō-tama? Have you ever touched any of your pretty pleasure spots for anything other than hygiene? Or am I the first? Will my wielder be the first to have your throat when he eases himself over your tongue and spills into your tiny belly?” He shivers, and Kintoki pets him slow and easy before starting another retreat. “It’s such a shame that your tanto-bearer isn’t ready yet; he would swallow up your seed with a great deal of delight. After all we’ll need a new generation to protect.” He squeaks again, the sudden image of Hayato under him, hot, tight heat surrounding his cock, heat that the hand wrapped around him is a poor imitation of, has his body shivering and clenching in short fast motions that feel surprisingly good when mixed with the pleasure from his cock. “You’re one of the sweetest, warmest sheathes I’ve ever had, pretty tenjō-tama. I insist that I be allowed many, many choices to make from your line. I hope your chosen bearer is strong -“ 

He squeezes the muscles surrounding Kintoki-sama semi-intentionally, wanting to distract himself from that impossible line of thought (boys couldn’t get pregnant) with more of the bright shiny pleasure; Kintoki-sama _likes_ that though, his hips bucking and shifting his cock inside his body, changing the angle just enough that he shrieks, high and almost distressed as the pleasure rips through him with brutal efficiency far too reminiscent of the Dying Will Bullets.

“Found it.” Kintoki-sama presses him against the mattress, and he whines low at needy at the back of his throat. “Does it feel good for you when I do that?” He makes a small affirmative noise, and Kintoki rocks his hips, sliding against that spot over and over again, and he can’t do anything but whimper and go limp as shock after shock slides through him, building up to something that he doesn’t have any words for. “So good for me, pretty-saya; relax, let me bring you to completion. Give me the gift of your pleasure, your pretty sheath squeezing around me, your pretty Flames filling the room. Let me give you everything you’ve ever craved, tenjō-tama.”

There’s one more thrust and he wails as the centre of the shocks bursts and his Sky races through his veins, pouring out into the room in a way that it never has, flooding the entire house with his Flames; the pleasure burns, bright and brilliant along nerves that have only ever told him about pain before and there’s a surprised, pleased noise from Kintoki-sama as he grinds in deep and spills something cool deep inside him, and then presses him to the bed. 

He whines in distress, as the sword-spirit withdraws, feeling empty and open again, but Kintoki-sama shushes him gently, and touches him there again with his fingers. “Lay very still for me, pretty tenjō-tama; I need to set the parameters of my blessing, and you wouldn’t want to have this go sideways on me, now would you?” He spreads his legs obligingly, and two fingers stroking his rim becomes three testing its looseness, and four curved together fucking it the same way Kintoki-sama had used his cock.

“Haf someone who could teach me to make weaponsmifing, Might make him happier -“

“The cranky Wrath my wielder’s opponent acts as sheath to? Yes, I think it would; he understands forfeits and the like.” He can’t answer; Kintoki-sama’s tucked his thumb in, and there’s steady pressure, pressure that had been painful before, but just feels good now, opening him even wider. “Deep breath, and push out.”

He does as ordered and the stretchy-pressure makes him wail and then the pressure is done, and he’s so full. There’s even more inside him than just Kintoki-sama’s cock, and it’s pushing deeper, the sensitive skin rasped by illusionary hairs that make him shiver and clench around hand and wrist even in his satiation. “S’full.”

“You’ll be even fuller when we conceive my daughters, pretty tenjō-tama. And you need space to grow your own, too. Keep breathing for me; I have so many plans for this pretty sheath of yours, and all of them call for your enjoyment and pleasure. No-one will want it damaged, even if we get over-enthusiastic with seeing how many swords it can hold.”

“Hiiieee!” The hand inside him presses what feels like its heel against the shocky pleasure spot, and he shivers, more of those pretty aftershocks spreading through his body, making him want to rock on the hand and help it deeper, until all he can feel is the stretch of his rim and the deep, deep penetration.

“Be glad that your first is a full-blooded yōkai; it makes so much possible that wouldn’t be otherwise, little tenjō-tama; the fact that your Flames make you hanyō only makes this easier. Humanity is merely a convention for you and I.” He’s confused; the sword spirit is elbow deep inside his body, doing something, and his cock is twitching and interested. “In fact I think we can appease your grumpy opponent very well, between you and I, tenjō-tama. All you’ll have to do is listen to my whispers -“ The hand inside him curls, pumping, and he screams his pleasure to the house all over again, shrieking as Kintoki-sama drives him through the pleasure supernova with his fist. 

He lays there, panting, dizzy, as Kintoki-sama keeps shifting his hand inside him, making tiny cooing sounds, appreciative noises that make his cock twitch and protest its own exhaustion. The sword-spirit’s cock is hard against his lower leg, and he wants to do something - anything - to share the pleasure he’s been lavished with.

“Shhh. You are very much are repaying me, sweet tenjō-tama; you’re the first sheath I’ve had in half a millenium who has offered to learn weaponsmithing for me. And this is only a borrowed form; just keep sharing those pretty Flames, and let me curl inside them with my innocent of a wielder.” Kintoki-sama smiles with a wicked expression, features shifting so he’s no longer the exact copy of Takeshi he’d been earlier. “Unless, you’d prefer his generously endowed father be your protector? I can assure you he kept his protectee _very_ satisfied while she lived.”

“Hiiieee! Takeshi-kun is good, Kintoki-sama.” The sword-spirit grins, sliding further away from Takeshi’s appearance towards another form. 

“Mmmm. I’m almost done, pretty tenjō-tama. A little longer and then I’ll put my sword back in the pretty sheath it belongs in and make sure you’re ready for your battle in the morning.” He shivers as the hand inside his body retreats, tugging at his rim, and he feels leaden and heavy, like there’s something still in the place Kintoki-sama had been touching deep inside his body. “Don’t worry; you’ll adjust quickly, sweet tenjō-tama, and even if you lose in the morning, you’ll like your fate, I promise. But I doubt you’ll lose with Takeshi-tan and I, and your pretty tanto-bearer at your back.”

His rim stretches impossibly wide, somehow far more elastic than it had been when Kintoki-sama pushed through it with his curved fingers. He shivers at the wide press of the hand’s knuckles, stretching him impossibly, and arches, toes curling despite his cock’s sated state. 

“Perfect. I just pulled my fist out of you, tenjō-tama without damaging anything. Now let me fuck you to sleep as one last confirmation, and remember, sweet sheath, that I am a millennium old and undefeated, and intend to remain that way.” Kintoki-sama curls around him, body leaner and shaped differently to Takeshi’s now, cock nudging at the place where his hand had been moments earlier, and he hadn’t even realised could be used for things like this until Kintoki-sama had used it to push inside him and give him pleasure. 

The head of the cock feels thicker and blunter, and it nudges at him over and over again, teasing his entrance, still so sensitive, rolling it open over and over again until he’s squirming and begging incoherently, needing more than he’s being offered. Needs the heavy place inside him touched, and filled with more of the sword’s cool pleasure. He wriggles and arches back into Kintoki-sama, who presses home; fills him perfectly, cock stretching him ever so slightly. Just enough to make sure he can feel the differences to the cock the sword-spirit had borrowed from Takeshi. The sword-spirit fucks him with slow, rolling thrusts that set his Flames on fire again.

“I’ll be gone when you wake up, sweet tenjō-tama, but you’ll be able to feel me when you walk out onto that battlefield in the morning. I’ll be there to whisper the right words in your ear when you win, the ones to defuse your cranky Wrath; the ones that will gain you a mentor, and a sire for your heirs. And when we’re done, I’ll come back to your bed and fuck you in all your glory, and sate both of us, and the collar they wish to put upon you. I am _undefeated_, and nought but two emperors have ever succeeded in commanding me; we will not bow to the ashes of a two hundred year old Family.”

He doesn’t have any words, can feel the waves of Rain Flames pouring over him dragging him down into oblivion, pleasure not quite at the level of the starburst that had consumed him earlier.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes, alone, feeling loose limbed and alert, and somehow far more focused than he’d ever imagined. (Before Kintoki-sama had come to him he’d been working himself up into a panic attack that the sword-spirit had solved with copious application of his - or rather Takeshi and someone else’s - cock.) His Flames dance over his hands the moment he _wants_ them to, accompanied by a low heat like the one Kintoki-sama had ignited inside him with his cock. If that continued with every use of his Flames, he was going to be desperate for the sword-spirit’s promised visit at the end of the day!

He dresses unhurriedly, wondering how no-one had heard him screaming for his Rain’s sword’s spirit last night, because he can hear everyone’s presences in the house now; even his father was here, despite the fact he’d disappeared before the Lightning battle in search of the man who’d tumbled out of Kyōya’s opponent the night before. 

(And Hiiieee; why had Kintoki-sama thought Kyōya-senpai would have done all that to him? His Cloud thought he was a fluffy small animal and reserved his hungry looks for Dino-nii … or at least he thought those were hungry looks? Dino certainly didn’t mind them and performed for Kyōya-senpai when he saw them, like the girls at Nami-koko performed for the boys.)

There’s a feast laid downstairs, though it feels all sorts of wrong without Lambo; his little Lightning had grown on him despite the chaos that followed in his wake. His father is an unwelcome presence, too; he can just imagine the lecture he’d get for being the uke for a yōkai from him, given how he performed his ‘household duties’ - sprawl around, get drunk, humiliate his mother - and he shivers, and pulls his Flames back inside his body almost totally. They protest after the way that Shigure Kintoki had helped to free them, but he insists; he doesn’t want to deal with his father’s shit this morning. He wolfs down a meal, still confused as to where Reborn is; maybe he’s avoiding his father, too? Or been called to the old man’s bed side?

Meal done, he slips out of the door and shrieks a high pitched ‘Hiiieee!’ as Takeshi appears from nowhere - Shigure Kintoki’s smug presence also making itself known with a warm throb deep in his belly, one that made him want to _beg_ \- and draping his arm over his shoulders. Almost as soon as Takeshi’s arm is in place - and while he’s still flashing back to having Kintoki-sama pressing him into the mattress while wearing Takeshi’s face, and Takeshi’s cock - Hayato slides in on his other side, hissing something about yakyuu-baka’s forwardness, and he whines and dumps a little of his Sky Flames into their systems, and leads them away from the school. Kyōya could forgive them _one_ day, given what started at dusk, surely? Lambo and Ryohei were in no state to fight, and Kyōya-senpai was better left to Kusakabe-san and Dino-nii to herd, but he could make sure his Rain and Storm were fit to fight, and something told him his Flames would help with that.

“Takeshi-kun, is there somewhere your otousan wouldn’t mind us holing up for the day? I don’t think going to school is a good idea, and Hayato-kun might do better tonight fed? I want to try something with my Flames, too. I think it might help.”

“Sure.” His Rain’s voice is easy and laconic. “As long as baka-dera -” the nickname is used affectionately, clearly gentle retaliation for calling him yakyuu-baka, “- promises not to destroy the dojo, we can use Asarigumi. The dojo’s really, really old, and full of the Clan’s Flames from sparring.” Given the way Shigure Kintoki vibrates on the edge of his senses, he’d probably been prompted to suggest the dojo that the blade thought of as ‘home’. Maybe it had something to do with how Kintoki-sama had called Hayato-kun his tantō-bearer? His body throbs in time with each step, with the distance he was putting between himself and his father and the thick oily rotten Sky Flames that he hadn’t even realised had been pressing against him. “Did Kintoki-sama visit you, Tsuna? You’re, um, lighter? Like the Seal is gone, and I couldn’t find him last night when I looked for him.”

“Something like that, Takeshi-kun. He, uh, helped … and Takeshi, do you have pictures of some of Shigure Kintoki’s previous wielders? He borrowed someone’s face last night after he said something and I want to know whose he borrowed.”

“Maa, maa, it was probably otousan’s. He does that when he trains me.”

“… Hiiieee!”

“Che. Yakyuu-baka, why are you winding Jyuudaime up? And how the fuck is your sword wandering around without you?”

“Shigure Kintoki’s a yōkai, baka-dera -“ that time the nickname was definitely a rebuke for using a title rather than his name. “- and are you _sure_ you want to name him your tantō bearer, Tsuna-kun? We could probably talk my itoko into doing it for you if we promise him cute fluffy animals and many, many things to bite to death for us -“

“Che. Is what you’re talking about something for Tsuna-sama’s Right Hand to do?” Takeshi’s lips curve into a wicked grin that distracts him entirely from the fact his Rain knows his Cloud’s sexual preferences and that Kyoya-senpai might want to be his sheath! He could understand Hayato in that role; his Storm would spend his time kneeling at his feet if he let him, but Kyōya-senpai?! 

“No. Something only for those _worthy_ of it. Otousan and Kaa-chan lost their tantō-bearer before I was born and never took another even though they could have _and_ one of Otousan’s cousins would have really liked to take the role. But Hibari do make very good tantō-bearers for the ones _we_-“ he can actually hear Kintoki-sama’s resonance with Takeshi’s words, “- protect. Pretty pets and last lines of defense, and maybe kaa-chan would have lived if otousan and she had claimed Touma-ji the way he wanted them to.”

“Che. Then I’ll carry the stupid tantō. A hold-out knife would be useful against that Stormy bastard anyway. ‘Specially if it’s like your pretty toy, yakyuu-baka.” Kintoki-sama’s laughing, and the heat throbs inside him, deep and rich, and he wants the sword-spirit to slide inside him again, to fill the empty space he’d made; wants Hayato underneath him to kiss, while Kintoki-sama drives him insane; wants everything the sword-spirit has promised him.

Asarigumi is old. Very, very old. So old he’s kind of worried about stepping inside properly, even after he’s toed his shoes off in the genkan. But Kintoki-sama feels so pleased to have them there that he almost expects him to step out of the blade and join them in sitting on the futon Takeshi-kun’s summoned from somewhere. 

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kintoki-sama, stop pretending to be an inanimate object, please. I’m getting distracted trying to figure out how much of what Takeshi-kun’s saying are his words, and how much of them are yours.” He pulls gently, with his Flames, and the sword on Takeshi’s back vanishes in shards of something more complex than mere Flames that reform into the same teen that he’d finished the night under, and he squirms at the memory, and at Takeshi’s look of recognition.

“Che. You weren’t kidding about him being a yōkai, were you, yakyuu-baka! Is he a tsukumogami? How old is he?” Kintoki-sama scowls, slightly, and then sits on the futon beside him and lifts him into his lap, making him blush when he feels ten inches of unforgiving (but very enjoyable) steel under his ass.

“He is sentient, a millennium older than you, baka-dera, and deserving of your respect. He has to approve of you as Tsuna’s bearer, too, especially as he’s claimed him.”

“Hiiieee!”

“Then you won’t mind me sheathing myself properly, will you, Takeshi?” His Rain shakes his head, and he makes a small sound in the back of his throat as the sword-spirit slices through his belt, and pushes his pants down just enough to slide inside him, the thick Flames of the room holding Hayato and Takeshi still while he did so. “There; that’s better. I do _much_ prefer being sheathed when corporeal. Especially when my pretty sheath is so adorable.”

Hayato _flails_. It’s funny, and he giggles and squirms on Kintoki-sama’s cock, muscles clenching spasmodically around its thick length, while Hayato mouths incoherent protests about his innocence and wanting to kill anyone who took advantage of him, Flames writhing in a very tempestuous way.

The sword-spirit’s hands lock tight on his hips, holding him perfectly still. “You, um, look satisfied with yourself, Kintoki-nii.” Kintoki-sama presses soft kisses against the column of his throat. “But why last night, nii-san?”

“Because you made the decision, and he was ready enough. Ready enough to choose this over death, anyway, and enjoy it _thoroughly_.” He squirms again; he hadn’t actually realised that was the choice he was making. He’d just liked the way it had felt to be touched by the sword-spirit, no matter which face he was wearing. “But you weren’t ready; you’ve developed asymmetrically. The pretty bearer you’ve chosen will probably look good on his knees sucking his master’s cock though.” Kintoki-sama nips his ear, pressing up into him, and then murmurs in his ear, making him clench tight around his cock. “I know exactly whose sword will slide into my sweet sheath next, and it will be glorious to watch whether you win or lose, pretty tenjō-tama. Lose, and he’ll fuck you in front of everyone; win and he’ll bend you over the anvil in his workshop. Either will give you a daughter to cherish.” He shivers at the words, half closing his eyes, relaxing into Kintoki-sama’s chest.

“This isn’t turning you on, yakyuu-baka?” His Storm is visibly squirming, flushed, definitely interested, and huh; he thought Kintoki-sama had said Hayato-kun wasn’t ready yet?

“It’s aesthetically pleasing, but not yet. It’s like Kintoki-sama said. He would have waited for Tsuna, too, if not for tonight.” Takeshi pauses, inclining his head in a silent question, and he feels Kintoki-sama nod. “It’s not the first inter-Sky scramble of this type that one of us has competed in; tonight’s battle is a misnomer. It’s really a free-for-all.”

“Che. At least their crazy Sun is broken, too, and you killed their Rain with the shark. If I’d known _that_ I would have used some of sis’s concoctions to off the looney Storm I have to deal with. Jyuudaime we might even win, providing the demon prefect shows up -“ His Storm is actually bouncing, the excitement of battle curling around his arousal in ways that make him want to giggle - Hayato was more like Belphegor than he probably wanted to recognise - and he tracks the movements, his own body rippling in appreciation around the thick cock that has him stretched so sweetly around it. “- why are you looking at me like that, yakyuu-baka? Jyuudaime’ll be _safe_ if we win. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maa, maa.” Takeshi grins, amused. His Flames feel pleased, but the Rain was still soft, and that confused him a bit, but the explanation mostly made sense. “Of course I want him safe. But I didn’t kill Squalo-senpai; his Flames never went out, and Kintoki-nii has shouted at me for not killing him.” 

He’s kind of relieved; now he knows what he’s feeling with his Flames, he could remember the rough and tumble affection between Xanxus and his officers, and he wanted to learn weaponsmithing for Kintoki-sama.

“If you want to suck Tsuna off, that would be _really_ pretty.” There’s a pretty squeak from his Hayato-kun, and Takeshi does _something_ with his Flames. “You want the tantō; show Kintoki-sama how much you want it, baka-dera.” He’s not sure when he closed his eyes fully, but he can hear Hayato grumbling and shifting and he’s not surprised when fine-boned hands press his thighs apart, and Storm Flames lick over his skin, stealing his clothes. “Open your eyes, Tsuna-koi. You’re going to want to watch this; it’s really pretty and I wish my cock would respond to it. I want it to, but the wiring isn’t there -“

He opens his eyes, and Takeshi’s right. Hayato’s there, between his legs, mouth open, tongue just sticking out shyly ready to flick the tip of his cock, and it’s _beautiful_. So beautiful that he clenches down hard around Kintoki-sama’s cock, making the sword-spirit buck his hips and grind his cock a little deeper. He arches in response, and the very tip of his cock brushes across Hayato’s petal soft lips, leaving a train of his pre-cum that his Storm licks off them. “My tantō is special, pretty little Storm. It takes specific circumstances to draw it out of hiding.” Hayato licks his lips again, and he whines, a tiny shiver rippling through his system. “She was the gift of the last Sky-weaponsmith I guarded.” He can feel the spell that Kintoki-sama is crafting; it’s made out of the same cool pleasure that Kintoki-sama had used to change him inside. “Let your instincts carry you, stormling. All the important pieces are in place, and I’m rather looking forward to feeling my sheath’s enjoyment of your mouth.”

Hayato’s tongue flicks out again and it’s just as deliciously hot as he’d briefly imagined it would feel. It’s very different from the feel of Kintoki-sama’s hand on his cock, sweeter and sharper, and the flicking sensation makes him squirm and wriggle on his sword-spirit’s cock. Kintoki-sama feels thicker inside him, the stretch making him pant and squirm and reach for Hayato, wanting more of his mouth on his cock. 

“Go on, pull him onto your cock properly, pretty tenjō-tama. If he’s truly your tantō-bearer, he’ll take every inch of you and purr at it filling his throat and sheath. And he’ll flourish on your chi, too.” He hesitantly sinks his hands into Hayato’s pretty silver hair; it’s just as soft as he’d imagined, and he pulls Hayato closer. That forces Hayato to actually take his cock in his mouth properly, and he hisses, muscles jumping and twitching and spasming around Kintoki-sama’s steadily thickening cock.

“Fuck, you three are _pretty_. I wish I had a set of my paints to immortalise this.” Kintoki-sama laughs at his wielder’s words, and he whines as the vibrations of the sword-spirit’s cock transmit themselves to him. “No, seriously. As lovely as a perfect pitch on a baseball field, or as delicious as otoro.”

Hayato tries to lift his head, but he’s feeling selfish, and holds him in place, leaning into his Flames to be sure Hayato’s okay with him sliding into his throat. Despite the brief sound of protest, Hayato feels pleased to be used, at least by him, and he leans back into Kintoki-sama. “I get to be selfish about Hayato-kun, right, Kintoki-sama?”

“Entirely. Even my wielder and I won’t touch him without your explicit permission, tenjō-tama.” Hayato blushes, scarlet, whining around his cock in a very, very enjoyable way, and Takeshi claps gleefully.

“Oh, I should have realised Hayato-tan had a praise kink and one about being owned; that was _pretty_. He blushed and came when told he was all yours to keep, Tsuna, and i’ll have to see if we have the right clothes to dress him as your concubine, at least for a painting or two. I’m going to have to tie oji up for otousan if oji will respond so adorably.” Kintoki-sama laughs, sending more shivering vibrations through his body. They make him squirm desperately, needing something _more_ than just the steadily increasing stretch of his sword-spirit’s cock.

“Perhaps wait for us to make him his own new blade, Takeshi-kun. I may be able to call some of Eiko-koi back for them with our pretty tenjō-tama’s help.” He makes his own small whining sound and then Hayato sucks hard, and his slender fingers touch the point at which he’s pierced by Kintoki-sama, light teasing touches that send flashes of pleasure skimming through him. He howls his pleasure, muscles clamping tight in spasmodic waves, fingers curling in Hayato’s hair holding him close and tight as his cock pulses. Eventually his orgasm shudders to a halt and he releases Hayato who gasps and rocks back on his heels, looking flushed and aroused, eyes almost purple in his need. “Give that a half an hour and he’ll be healed, tenjō-tama; while we’re waiting I need to retrieve our tantō -“

He’s confused when Kintoki-sama pushes him forward, forcing an equally confused Hayato to sprawl on his back and cushion him from the dojo’s floor; Takeshi makes a small noise, shifting. “Let me get you a towel from otousan’s supply; buffing body fluids out of a thousand-year-old nightingale floor is a nuisance I’d rather not deal with and I can see where this is going.” Hayato splutters, and the floor sings as Takeshi crosses the room and fishes in an alcove, “Like you’re not going to cum again when Kintoki-nii sheaths Tsuna in you baka-dera; I know how to retrieve his tantō, and you’ll enjoy it being bound to you.” His Rain makes a small victorious sound. “So let me put this under the three of you so I can enjoy the show without worrying about the floor -“

“Yakyuu-baka -“ he leans forward, pulling off Kintoki-sama’s cock slightly - fuck, he feels so _big_ now that he’s moving and rubbing against his rim - to seal his mouth over Hayato’s, stealing his breath and tasting himself on his Storm’s lips. Kintoki-sama pulls them both back up in an easy move that shows off his unnatural strength, and Takeshi slides the blanket down and Hayato-kun self-immolates.

… Okay, self-immolation probably isn’t the right term. But given the flare of Storm Flames ends with Hayato and him naked, pressed to each other from head to toe, cocks rubbing against each other. But it’s the only one he can think of between Hayato and Kintoki-sama. “I’m _so_ painting this tomorrow. I want this moment immortalised for when the wiring in my head works and for bribing my itoko -“ He sighs and rests his forehead against Hayato’s stealing another kiss from his pretty Storm as Kintoki-sama shoves himself back inside his body properly, and he whines at how good it feels, and the sword-spirit feels like he’s balanced on the edge of something, the tension singing through him. Kintoki-sama rocks into him, grinding in deep and then drawing back almost reluctantly, cock popping free of his greedy hole almost reluctantly.

He whines but Kintoki-sama shushes him gently and presses his fingers to his rim carefully, dipping inside and gathering some of the cool evidence of his pleasure from his slick and open channel. “May I touch your tantō-bearer, tenjō-tama? He needs some preparation -“

“Hayato-kun?” His Storm seems surprised he’s seeking his consent, and he flirts with a desire to let Takeshi and Tsuyoshi cut a pretty swathe across Italy; given the feel of his Rain’s Flames, he wants him to give in to that desire. Hayato nods and surges up for a kiss that seems _very_ desperate even to him, and he soothes him with his Flames, feels the Flames like Kyoya-senpai’s curling out from under the Stormy front Hayato maintains for strangers.

“Oh, that’s a beautiful surprise, Takeshi-kun. Did you know that he was hiding that?”

“I grew up around Kyōya-senpai and Touma-oji while you slumbered, Kintoki-nii. All of Tsuna’s Elements are Cloudy, like he is. Well, all of those of us not forced into the position, anyway. There’s two Lightnings and a Sun you need to meet, Tsuna-koi, after all of this. They might fit your harmony better, and Mukuro and Chrome say you can have more than one for any given Flame.” He makes a small confused sound, and Kintoki-sama’s hands, gentle but determined, coax him into rolling over, exposing Hayato’s back to the sword-spirit. “Why don’t I go and get my paints and some lunch while you do that, Kintoki-nii; it might make it easier on Hayato-kun if I don’t witness his surrender to you and Tsuna-koi?”

“It might.” They hover there for a long moment, a fixed tableau until Takeshi’s left the dojo, sliding the screens shut behind him, and then, from the sound of things, Kintoki-sama slides one of his pleasure-slick fingers inside Hayato and his Storm makes a broken sound as he mouths against his throat. “Shhh, little tempest. You’ll be on your Sky’s cock soon, where you belong, and it’ll be sweet, but you want to be able to fulfil all of his needs, don’t you? There’s no woman in your trio, and your pretty tenjō-tama’s sheath is going to be too busy to be the only one that’s fertile, so I need to make some more magic happen, lest my wielder and sheath’s lines end.” Hayato quivers, and he shushes him gently. “And oh, I haven’t seen this since Takeshi’s great-grandfather’s tantō-bearer ran afoul of an Italian kuniochi when he wandered, but our tenjō-tama’s seed should fix the problem nicely, especially given you are to be his sheath, little tempest.”

He squirms under Hayato, enjoys the way his Storm presses frantic kisses to the side of his throat, needing a degree of grounding as he’s slowly opened up by the sword-spirit’s relentless fingers. “You’re being so good for us, Hayato-kun. So pretty and so obliging for us.”

Hayato whimpers, head burrowed in the crook of his neck, and Kintoki-sama makes a small sound of victory as his Storm gasps. “There we go. You took that so well, little tempest; you can have our tenjō-tama’s cock now. You’re going to be his pretty sheath from now on.” The sword-spirit lifts Hayato up and wraps a hand around his cock and he makes a small shriek as he’s encased in tight, slick heat that goes on and on until he’s entirely embedded. Hayato’s eyes are wide as he sits on his hips. “Doesn’t that feel good, little tempest? Like a piece of you that’s missing is back inside you again?” Hayato nods eagerly and then wriggles, testing out how it feels to have his cock buried inside his body. “Now, we’re going to roll you beneath our tenjō-tama, and then we’re going to have a little fun, little tempest.”

Kintoki-sama rolls them both over and he shifts himself around on top of Hayato so that they’re both comfortable. He doesn’t want to lose the tight heat around his cock. “Please, Kintoki-sama -”

“Of course, pretty tenjō-tama.” He howls into the crook of Hayato’s shoulder as the sword-spirit drives back into his body, cock twice the size it had been making his back arch at the pleasure being pushed on him. “A little bit more and you’ll have called our tantō back. I think the little tempest will enjoy her spirit as his companion; she favours the feline, just like him.”

Kintoki-sama rocks, thrusting into him with slow, easy motions, grinding him into Hayato, deep and slow, moving over and over again, building the tension that he’s starting to recognise as arousal and the beginning of his orgasm. Kintoki-sama nips at the nape of his neck and he presses kisses to Hayato and the three of them find a rhythm that works for them. Hayato whines in desperation under him, frantic, and he’s driven half way insane between the still steadily swelling cock in his ass and the heat around his own, and he’s moving with unconscious need.

The tension bursts, star-bright, and he clamps down around Kintoki-sama, fucking his pleasure into Hayato and goes limp. Kintoki-sama keeps driving him through it, until he follows suit; the sword-spirit’s cum is thick and cool and makes his body tingle in a strange way that has Kintoki-sama purring and kissing the back of his neck. “Pour just a little of your Flame into your little tempest and he’ll have a blinding orgasm; it’ll make Uri-chan his.”

He complies, eager for Hayato to share pleasure with them both and Hayato arches frantic and he pulses his Flames until his Storm goes glassy eyed with pleasure, and Kintoki-sama withdraws, leaving something thick and heavy behind inside his body. He whines, and the sword-spirit presses him back down on top of Hayato’s panting form, fingers sliding inside his lax opening to retrieve what he assumes is the tanto. It’s drawn out slowly, making him whimper, and forcing his cock erect again; he bucks his hips, fucking himself onto the weapon and into Hayato’s slack sheath, which he coaxes back awake again with his Flames.

He cums into Hayato just as Kintoki-sama finally extracts the tanto from his body, collapsing on top of his pretty, sated Storm. The blade is slipped into Hayato’s hand, and then there’s a tiny cat purring and padding around the dojo, and he lifts off the barely conscious Hayato carefully. Kintoki-sama helps both of them onto the futon, letting him curl around his sleepy Storm, cleaning Hayato off, and tucking a blanket over them, before going to the door, presumeably to wait for Takeshi and anyone helping him with the food …


	3. Chapter 3

He holds a finger up to his lips, and Takeshi raises an eyebrow, before allowing a tiny fragment of Cloud to pool around his ears. “He’s sleeping?” His Rain mouths the words, and he nods. “Awww. We should wake him up for food eventually, but let him sleep for now.” Takeshi and Kintoki - back to being Takeshi’s döppelganger for some reason - put the food trays down; they’re covered in a neat application of Rain Flames. “Why don’t you sleep, too, Tsuna? I’ll stand guard, paint and play with Uri-chan.” He nods, and buries his head in his Storm’s soft, silver hair. (He’d expected it to smell smoky, but it didn’t; the subtle scent of sakura was a tiny piece of mischief he hadn’t expected from his Hayato.)

He wakes to Hayato making tiny whimpering sounds, Uri-chan licking the tears from his Storm’s face, and Takeshi looking worried. He floods the dojo with his Sky, letting it lap against the walls of the room, trusting the protections on the building to keep them from giving away his location. Hayato’s whimpers slow, and he strokes his side gently, wondering what had had him so distressed. Hayato’s body stiffens, then his Storm is rolling over, pinning him to the futon, and there’s a thick, hot cock pressed against his hip making him gasp and whine. “Won’t lose you. _Won’t_.”

_Oh_. He spreads his legs, and tilts his head, and his Storm whines, hips twitching, and his cock catches on his opening, sliding inside smooth and easy, making him gasp and Hayato’s eyes snap open, eyes more reddish-purple than anything else. Hayato latches onto his neck, nipping at the column of his throat, crushing him to himself as closely as possible, and he tries to soothe his frantic Storm, enjoying the way his cock was moving inside him. Kintoki-sama sits on the edge of the futon, a cool presence, and he gives in and rolls them both over, sitting on top of Hayato, impaled on his Storm’s cock. The sword-spirit shifts around them, pushing him down and he goes willingly, kissing Hayato, and smooth cool fingers press inside along his Storm’s cock. He clenches down on them, and Kintoki laughs and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “May I, tenjō-tama? It won’t be as challenging as retrieving my tantō, and it’ll feel very, very good to have both of us moving inside you.”

He nods, and there’s significantly more pressure against his hole, making him whimper, and then he’s impossibly stretched, and it aches, viciously intense and painfully necessary to his very existence. Two cocks inside his body is different from one impossibly thick one; they move separately, unpredictably, and he clings to Hayato as Kintoki-sama takes over their movements, and slipping a hand between his and Hayato’s bellies to stroke his cock.

Kintoki-sama’s self flickers on the edge of his perceptions, the sensations of the cocks inside changing, and Takeshi makes a small sound that he doesn’t understand; then the changes stop, and he feels impossibly full, everything stretched. His body spasms, his cum spilling on their bellies, muscles almost cramping - but in a good way; it doesn’t hurt - and clamping down around the two cocks he’s impaled on, milking them with his sheath. Two very tiny sparks, more like Shigure Kintoki than Hayato or Takeshi ‘take’ inside him, and he makes a sound of surprised confusion that has the sword-spirit pressing him into the futon and kissing his abdomen with over-eager determination.

“Such a perfect tenjō-tama for us. Hadn’t expected that to even be possible for _months_.” He’s confused, but the sword spirit is so excited it’s contagious, and he ruffles the spirit’s hair (it’s an older cut style, Kintoki-sama clearly borrowing an older Asari’s form for some reason). “We’re going to _win_, tenjō-tama. They’re so pretty.”

Takeshi appears in his peripheral vision, and he squirms as his Rain kneels, and touches his slick covered belly then looks equally surprised. “I thought you taught me it could take years to spark a spirit, even for a weaponsmith protectee, Kintoki-nii? Yet there’s two inside Tsuna already?” He squirms when Takeshi licks his hand clean; it makes his cock twitch. He knows Takeshi isn’t ready yet, but it’s so unconsciously sensual that he can’t help but react at least a little.

Kintoki actually sticks his tongue out at Takeshi, and he snickers, seeing exactly why his Rain uses the nii suffix at the moment. “Yes well, I’ve only had my ‘mother’ and two other weaponsmiths, otouto, and as all three of them struggled to kindle weapon spirits …”

“Jyuudaime’s pregnant?!”

“Yes, but no? I’m not sure whether kindling yōkai counts, baka-dera. It won’t stop tonight’s battle, whereas a human pregnancy would, according to otousan.” He sits up and Kintoki-sama pulls him into his lap, nuzzling at his throat, radiating more excited contentment. “I brought lunch; it’s under some Rain Flames but we should eat it soon because otousan pulled the otoro out -”

Hayato sits up as well, leaning into his side, and Takeshi grins, and pulls the platters over, putting one in between Hayato and Kintoki-sama, and pulling a wash cloth from somewhere. His Rain moves to wipe Hayato off, but Hayato growls right up until the point Uri-chan leaps up onto his head and growls back at him from his hair. “Fine, fine, brat cat I’ll let yakyuu-baka help.” He snickers, and then Hayato picks up one of the nigiri and holds it up to him. He bites it neatly in half, and his Storm eats the other half, and he squirms happily in Kintoki’s lap; the only way he’d be any happier right now would be the sword-spirit’s cock in his sheath, and Takeshi-kun to be doing the same to Hayato for him. (His Storm would look good on Takeshi’s cock, squirming and swatting at the larger teen and yowling about being fucked.)

The platter vanishes into the three of them - Kintoki doesn’t eat, but does slide his cock back inside his body - with the occasional slice of the fish stolen by Uri-chan, who tended to curl up in Hayato’s hair between thefts. “Why don’t you have dessert, Hayato-kun?” He flushes at the sword-spirit’s sly words when the platter’s empty. “It’ll help make sure you can digest that properly and finish healing.”

He squirms, especially when Hayato actually moves, and Takeshi laughs and returns to his pile of cushions and his sketch pad; knowing his Rain was planning to immortalise his debauchment only made it hotter and more _real_. Uri-chan leaps from Hayato’s head, and pads across to Takeshi, draping herself across the Rain’s shoulders, and his Storm kneels between his legs, and bends his head, licking the tip of his cock with a level of eagerness that he wouldn’t have expected two days ago. Hayato’s tongue is hot and rough and learning him very, very quickly, rasping against sensitive spots, his Storm’s clever fingers finding pressure points that make him beg and squirm, sheath spasming gently around the cock he’s still stuffed with.

Hayato tests himself on his cock, sucking on it gently, swallowing more and more of it, and he drops his hands into his hair again and flicks his eyes to Takeshi, who was sketching with a degree of urgency that has him tugging on Hayato’s hair, forcing his Storm to speed up; his Rain looks fascinated and, he realises the sort of picture they must make. Him, sat in Kintoki’s lap, clearly entirely pleased with himself, and Hayato kneeling between his thighs, legs spread enough that his Storm’s well-used hole had to be visible, possibly even _dripping_, and he wants to demand Takeshi put the pencil down and stuff his cock in Hayato’s empty hole.

Kintoki-sama presses kisses to his neck, hips twitching slightly, one large hand pressed against his abdomen. It makes him desperate, and he holds Hayato in place on his cock as he cums. His Storm fights him slightly, body half-starved of oxygen by his cock, but he doesn’t release him until he’s done, and Hayato backs, off, coughing and spluttering, but with an expression like a cat who just got the cream lighting his eyes, and, when he’s settled his breathing, the words ‘thank you, Jyuudaime’ on his tongue. Words that make him shiver _and_ make him very aware of the cock still occupying his sheath.

“Such a perfect choice, tenjō-tama.” Kintoki-sama pushes up off the futon, arm clamped tightly around his waist, holding his weight effortlessly; the form the sword-spirit has settled on for their pre-and-post lunch activities is even taller than Takeshi, and he half wishes for a mirror so he could see him. He’s carried over to one of the pieces of equipment in the corner, a towel summoned from somewhere, and he’d draped over it before the sword-spirit resumes fucking him, with brilliant, fierce strokes, ones that burn up his spine, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “I won’t blame your cranky rival at all if he tries to claim my pretty sheath this evening. It’s hot and tight and wet, perfect in every way, and so impossibly, ridiculously fertile.” He squirms, arching his back, presenting as best as he can as Kintoki’s hips slap into his ass over and over again, his soft cock rubbing against the towel he’s laid on.

The afternoon disappears into a whirl of taking Kintoki-sama’s cock and Hayato’s mouth sucking on him greedily, and Takeshi’s amused face, and it’s the best way he can think of to survive the day. (He can’t believe Reborn had been sending him to school every day during this mess.) When the sun finally starts to set, he’s boneless and sated and smug, his Flames thick and rich in the dojo, and Takeshi’s stretching, yawning, and putting aside his watercolours. His Rain rises and pulls back a curtain in the back of the dojo, revealing a number of cubicles with clothes neatly folded in them. “Let me dress you both, Tsuna, Hayato; I think you’ll be more comfortable and better armoured in the stuff we’ve got stored than anything Reborn might remember to supply you.”

Kintoki-sama steals a kiss and crosses the floor to join his Rain rummaging in the cubicles, the sword-spirit stripping his wielder down, making him and Hayato blush, before redressing him in a very traditional fashion. But one that Takeshi’s clearly comfortable in, the fundoshi looking far more comfortable than boxers on his slim hips; Kintoki then helps Takeshi into a juban, before pulling up a set of split hakama, and then helps Takeshi into some lightly stiffened silk armour. “I’m leaving the Storm to you, yakyuu-baka. You’ll have reach on him, and I bet your yōkai’ll cut through his damn wires.” Kintoki hums in acknowledgement, pulling something else out of the cubicle. “I’ll blow through the idiot Lightning - Levi’s got some stupid fucking weaknesses - and then get to Chrome. She’ll need help with Mammon, and Storm beats Mist if you’ve learned to play with Trident Shamal.”

“What about my itoko, and the other two, Hayato?” Kintoki kneels and buckles guards to his wielder’s shins and forearms, Takeshi then testing his range of movement and nodding.

“The demon prefect won’t listen to orders, yakyuu-baka. He’ll either help Chrome or Jyuudaime, depending on which of them looks cuter and more in distress. Turf-top’s got a shattered arm that’s not healing, and I figured Jyuudaime would want the cowprint-idiot kept out of it if we can.”

“Mmm. Come here, Hayato.” He pushes his Storm gently towards the matched pair of Asari, and grins as the two of them. “You need to be able to throw your dynamite, right? Do you prefer to throw left or right-handed? Or would it be easier to figure it out based on which hand Uri-chan feels more comfortable in?” The tantō-cat leaps at Hayato, shifting halfway through the leap, and Hayato catches her left-handed. “I think that answers that question, -” Takeshi sounds thoroughly amused, “- that’s nearly the same way otousan figured out whether _I_ was right or left-handed.”

His Rain pulls Hayato into a kiss, slow and ruthless. Kintoki laughs, kneeling with a strip of cloth in his hands to weave it around his Storm’s narrow waist, fingers dipping into Hayato’s wet little hole in a way that makes him shiver and whine, tucking something inside his Storm before twisting and tucking the fabric strip. “Perverted yōkai.”

“Our pretty tenjō-tama has kindled; we need to prepare you, too, pretty bearer.” Hayato squirms and steps into the leggings held out to him, before Takeshi picks up a long white cloth, wrapping it snugly around Hayato’s chest, and over his right shoulder, tucking it, and fusing the end in place somehow. “Sarashi?”

“It’ll protect him from Levi’s bolts.”

“Ah.” The sword-spirit picks up and shakes out a short yukata in dark red and purple, holding it out, and Hayato slides into it, leaving the right shoulder free. Takeshi kilts the yukata, shortening it even further, and then unfurls something and wraps it around Hayato’s waist as an obi. (The obiage being in Flame-colors makes sense, as does the obijime in Storm-red with Cloud-violet tassels, and obi in the colour of his Sky Flames.) But the way Takeshi ties the obi with a hyakka knot, makes him blush bright red, and squeak, especially when Kintoki smirks at him. “Your turn, tenjō-tama.”

Uri completes the costume by leaping from Hayato’s hand to one of the shelves, knocking a mask off for Kintoki-sama to catch. He gives himself into his Asari’s hands, and let the two of them dress him, tugging him around like a doll; the underlayers feel snug and draw on his Flames slightly, and the sensation makes him squirm, and the reverence with which Takeshi finishes dressing him, arranging the sleeveless kimono just so, and fussing delicately with his obi, tying it behind him in a way that makes him squeak. “We’ll all need wraps and boots too, and we should slip out early. Itoko’ll be mad if we’re properly dressed for a fight and he isn’t.”

“Che. As if the demon prefect matters. Got any more of those arm guards, yakyuu-baka? I don’t want to get sliced up if I run into the lunatic prince.” Takeshi shakes his head, but pulls what looks like an entire silken sleeve from one of the shelves. He lets the Rain pull it on for him, and tack it to the sarashi so it’ll stay put, and then stalks away. Kintoki-sama laughs, and pulls three pairs of boots from the lowest cubicle of the alcove, and leaves them by the shoji along with a set of wrapped bandages, presumably for the bottom of their hakama. “What time did the pink-haired bitches say that we needed to be there, Jyuudaime?”

Takeshi leans over and slaps the back of his head.

“Che. Pink-haired women are going to give me fucking nightmares for the rest of my life, yakyuu-baka. They keep trying to kill my Sky. There are worse things I could call them.”

“Hayato -”

“Fine. For you, Jyuudaime.”

“10pm. But Takeshi’s right, Hayato. We should at least let Hibari-senpai see we’re dressed traditional and have a nose around. Kintoki-sama, is there anything _you_ can think of we need to know?”

“If the Skies aren’t motivated to fight, the judges normally raise the stakes with something like poison, tenjō-tama, holding the antidote hostage. The winner chooses whether to share it with the Sky they’ve just subordinated.”

“Che. Hopefully, it is poison; one bonus to Bianchi’s crap is I’m immune to most shit and can burn the rest off. And if yakyuu-baka tranquilises the poisoning site, he should be okay for a bit. That’ll buy you more time, Jyuudaime. ’specially as despite that fucking show, at least three of the Officers are actually Xanxus’s bonded Guardians and it hurts like someone’s torn your heart out to lose them.” He blinks, having a horrifying thought.

“They wouldn’t poison Lambo would they? He’s so ill -”

“- ugh. Yakyuu-baka, have you got a phone I can use? Shamal can hide him from the pink-haired witches if it’ll make you feel better. He might even drag turf-top off, too.” He makes a sound of relief, and Takeshi rubs the back of his head.

“We’ll need to go back to the restaurant. The Mist Flames that protect the compound mean we’ve never bothered running modern utilities out here.” Takeshi’s cheeks have a pink tint to them, and he tilts his head, curious. “Um, we still need to wrap our hakama, Tsuna -”

“Che. Get over to the shoji, yakyuu-baka. I’ll wrap your legs for you. You can wrap Jyuudaime’s when I’m done.” Takeshi actually pouts at Hayato but grabs three sets of socks from the alcove and crosses to the shoji; he watches, squirming slightly, as Hayato kneels in front of Takeshi and deftly wraps his lower legs, before fusing the bandages to stop them being sliced. “Getting a clue, yakyuu-baka?”

“Maa, maa. Come here, Tsuna. You need wrapped, too, and I should do them -” having Takeshi on his knees in front of him, his armor flaring perfectly, dark head bent as he wraps his shins makes him squirm. It’s worse because he knows Takeshi wants, but the wiring isn’t there yet. Given the expression on his Storm’s face, he’s not the only one that’s impatient for Takeshi to be ready. “Done. We should return the platters to otousan, too.”

He scoops the platters up and follows his Rain back through the compound, amused as Kintoki-sama shifts back to being Takeshi’s twin, but wearing a paler blue armor to Takeshi’s purplish set. Hayato moves comfortably at his heels, flashes of red catching the corner of his eye in a way that made his cheeks feel permanently scorched.

“Tou-san! I found where Kintoki-nii was last night, and Tsuna and Hayato let me dress them properly -”

“I see, musuko. Did you chose the obi knots, or did Kintoki-sama? They’re very, uh, appropriate.” His cheeks go even redder, and Hayato bristles slightly; he puts a soothing hand on his Storm’s arm, and he calms.

“Kintoki-sama.” Takeshi chirps, obviously in a wicked mood. “I picked the clothes though. Reborn hadn’t even given _Tsuna_ armor, let alone the rest of us. But Hayato needs to use the phone, tou-san. Kintoki-sama told us something we didn’t know about tonight, and we need to get Lambo and Ryohei to safety. The three of us and itoko can deal with the handicap tonight, but it might kill them, and it’s not fair when they aren’t even really Tsuna’s.”

Tsuyoshi-san gives his son a sharp look. “You’re sure, musuko? These battles are only supposed to be between bonded Sets, given the price that can be paid if the winner wishes.”

“Che. Not all of the Varia Officers are bonded, either. Mammon’s an Arcobaleno.”

Tsuyoshi-san waves that off. “They’ve always been an exception. An Arcobaleno takes something like Kintoki-sama to kill, and even that’s uncertain.”

“If Levi A Than’s bonded, Yamamoto-san, I’ll eat a stick of my dynamite.” Tsuyoshi-san tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Not sure about their Sun, either, given the way Xanxus shot him; that should have made him flinch from the backlash.”

“Or he’s that confident about his Sun’s ability to heal the wound; I’ve met one who could regenerate anything short of a decapitation, Gokudera-kun, and notoriously your Sky’s tutor was capable of it before the Fated Day.” He blinks. He hadn’t even thought of that; he’d just been horrified at the other Sky shooting Sasawaga-san’s opponent.

“Che, so we should plan for them being loose, too. Yeah, getting turf-top out of here, given what Lussuria said.”

“I’ll take them, Hayato. Kintoki-nii and I should be able to deal with them if they do heal that fast.”

“The phone’s by the kitchen door, Hayato -” Tsuyoshi waves a hand in the right direction, and Hayato slips away to make the call to Shamal, “- and make sure you bring everyone back here afterwards, musuko, including your Sky’s oniisan and that Rain he’s hiding from the judges. I need to have a _discussion_ with both boys. Preferably in the dojo.” Takeshi giggles.

“Otousan. We’re planning to do the same thing. And he did get bitten by a shark.”

“If the Varia didn’t bring an army of healers, and he couldn’t breathe underwater, I’ll put the otoro on sale at sub wholesale prices for a month, Takeshi. I certainly could when I was training regularly.” His Rain grumbles, and Hayato bounces back from the phone, looking significantly less grumpy.

“The arsehole had already swiped them. They’re halfway to Hokkaido. He’s not coming to watch though; he’s expecting a double-cross and wants to toy with the mooks. He has some new toys that need testing.”

“I might join the entertainment, then, musuko. Kintoki-sama, would you mind retrieving one of the others for me; I think you need to be with my boy, tonight.”

The sword-spirit makes a face, clearly a little torn. “If you get yourself killed before we try and pull back Eiko-chan for her new blade, I will pay a bakeneko to terrorise your afterlife, Tsuyoshi.” His cheeks burn again, and the older Rain laughs gently, before nodding, and the sword-spirit pulls the requested blade from thin air. The chef takes it, saluting Kintoki-sama with the blade.

“I have no plans to end up dead, Kintoki-koi. Now shoo, boys. If my cute oi-chan isn’t warned that you’re properly dressed, he’ll pout, and then bite everyone to death.” Takeshi laughs, and tows both of them out of the restaurant, Kintoki-sama fading and forming into the more familiar sword slung across his Rain’s back.

They slip through the town, arriving at the school just over an hour before the official start time; one of the Committee, showing obvious signs of being bitten to death by Hibari-senpai. “Hi Itō-kun!” Takeshi chirps, a sharp smile on his lips. “Is Kyō-tan in a _very_ bad mood?”

The Committee member unbends, an answering bemused smile on his face. “He took on the whole Committee unarmed, Takeshi-kun, and then beat up the Sky who keeps flirting with him for good measure. He woke his Flames doing that, so he’s asleep in his office for now.”

“Hiiieee! Maybe we should leave him to sleep, Takeshi-kun -”

“Maa, maa, he’s still trying to pick between you and Dino, Tsuna. He won’t bite unless you ask him to. And he’ll be much happier if we let him dress properly for the battle.” The Committee member - Itō-kun - steps aside, and Takeshi leads them through the half-ruined school. (The illusions were painfully easy to see through and Hibari-senpai must be _outraged_ at the damage.) The Committee Room is unmarred, though, Kusakabe standing guard outside, and the former banchou looks at them, sighs, and opens the door.

Hibari-senpai’s asleep on one of the couches, and Kintoki-sama fades back into existence, crossing to shake the Cloud awake, and taking the blow with a certain amount of amusement. “Hn. You’re not the baseball-herbivore.”

“Kyō-tan. Otou-san and I have both introduced you to Kintoki-nii more than once. You’ve _fought_ him more than once, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hn.” The Cloud sits up, and opens his eyes, and then blinks, before going: “Wao. I didn’t think you would manage to get the kitten into something so traditional.”

“Which is why we woke you up. Wouldn’t you rather wear something more -” Takeshi waves his hands. “- maybe even your court kimono? I know Kasumi-sama had one made for you this year, and it would be a suitable fuck-you to Xanxus for yesterday …”

“Hn.” The prefect pushes up off the couch, and crosses to the hidden door way. “You will help me put it on, Kintoki-sama. I trust you will be able to do it correctly?” Putting on a court kimono turns out to be even more convoluted and time-consuming than he’d expected, and he giggles at the thought of Dino-nii’s expression when he saw Hibari-senpai dressed so elegantly; in fact, it takes so long that Kintoki-sama’s just tying Kyōya’s obi when one of the Cervello opens the door, and takes a well-thrown baseball to the face. He raises an eyebrow at Takeshi, who looks sheepish.

“Just because I told Hayato off for being so crude doesn’t mean I _like_ them, Tsuna.”

“Candidate, where are your Sun and Lightning? Your Mist is outside.” Another of the Cervello steps over her sister’s form.

“Hn. I trust you will ask the other Candidate the same question? His Rain is missing.”

“Their doctor took them to a place of safety at my request, Cervello-san.” The Cervello scowls, and flexes her finger as if she wants to attack him, but refrains when Hayato touches the tantō’s hilt. “You failed to specify that even the injured would need to be present, and unless you wish to postpone the scramble, they will have to remain elsewhere. I do have the Ring my Sun won though; it was given into my care by his doctor while he recovered.” The woman makes a huffy sound.

“Your Cloud’s men are ill-disciplined.”

“Hn. My Committee is doing exactly as instructed, Cervello-_sama_. They are punishing those responsible for damaging my territory. If your personnel can’t deal with high schoolers, perhaps they need more training, ne?” He bites his cheeks, amused to watch the insult go straight over the Cervello’s head. “If the Sky I am fighting for must have six representatives, then my wakagashira will stand, but I will not rescind their orders to cull your numbers.”

“They are not bonded.”

“Neither were the two _my_ Sky -” he feels the bond snap into place, and it made his head _spin_, briefly. He’d been so sure he was going to lose Hibari-senpai to Dino-nii, “- sent to safety, Cervello-sama; and they are bonded to _me_. I hold their formal fealty under our cultural norms. Thus, they are my Sky’s. And they have been _very_ effective against your footsoldiers, have they not?” The woman winces and pinches her nose.

“Very well. Follow me.” He brushes his Flames soothingly, reaching out to Kyōya, and through him, to the two his Cloud was offering him, finding Tetsu and Itō on the other side of the thin-but-sturdy bonds. The two men snap to attention, and the Lightning sticks his head around the door.

“Chairman?”

“You’ll be joining us tonight with Itō; my orders stand. Draw weapons from the armory for both of you.” Tetsu nods and knocks the Cervello it the doorway out with a cosh before he trots off, speaking on his headset, and the four of them step over both women on the floor. “Do not take mercy on the others, koneko-tan. They will not take mercy on you.”

“Yōkai, do your wakagashira have any resistance to poison?”

“Since your sister arrived it has been a prerequisite for any of my men.” Hayato snorts. “And both the Asari and the Hibari are an old, imperial clans, oiran-kun. I have been trained in politics and strategy since before I mastered the art of hashi. You are not the only one who can read events.”

He shakes his head at the interplay. “We should go down and see what level of theatrics Xanxus has decided to engage in, Hibari-senpai, and see if he understands the messages Kintoki-sama wrapped us all in, ne?” Hibari-tilts his head in acknowledgement of his words, and he almost squeaks in alarm.

Tetsuya returns to them, wearing a gakuran in place of his normal jacket, with a second in his arms, and a satchel. “Can you deal with Levi, Kusakabe-san? I’m not sure how long Chrome will be able to hold off Mammon if they decide to take the gloves off. She’s clearly injured and relying on Mukuro’s a bad idea.”

“Itō-san will be a better match for the Lightning Officer. I’ll take the pervert Sun Officer, oiran-kun.”

“Just don’t get killed for me, please.”

“Hn. Do you know why the Europeans call it Dying Will Mode, koneko-chan? It’s because those of us with it do our very best when we’re dancing most closely with the shinigami.” He shivers at the feel of his Cloud’s Flames, the greedy hunger dancing in them. “It’s why I was so irritated with the herbivores last night; all of that promise and it wasn’t enough to wake my Flames from their sleep. But the horse was a willing enough sacrifice and now they’re awake.” Purple fire sparkles over Hibari-senpai’s fingertips where they peeped out from his kimono sleeves.

“If you say so, Hibari-senpai.” Takeshi laughs, blue and purple fire on his own hands.

His father is waiting, downstairs, with the Vongola Ninth, and Lal Mirch; Colonello’s somewhere - he can see his eagle soaring overhead. Dino’s nowhere to be seen, but he’s not as surprised as he might be now he knows that Squalo’s alive and his nii-san is hiding him. And he knows where Tsuyoshi and Shamal are, too. So that only leaves his own ‘tutor’ still to arrive. Reborn remains suspiciously absent, as does Xanxus, and he fidgets with his Leon gloves until he can feel Kintoki-sama vibrating in near annoyance; he wonders what has the sword-spirit so irate.

“Kintoki-sama says we’re reforging your gloves as soon as you can walk again tomorrow. He thinks that why you kindled, Tsuna.”

“Hn.” Hibari-senpai draws a tessen, flicking it, and Tetsu and Ito straighten up, even as he feels the fiery edge of his opponent’s Sky Flames approaching. (His father is being surprisingly well behaved compared to how slovenly he’d been at home, his Flames controlled and contained; the Ninth was too weak to have much presence, and he’s tempted to ask the Cervello as to whether the old man should be placed on the field, too, given he’d stood in as his son’s Cloud no matter how unwillingly.) The burning Sun of his tutor trails behind, and he wonders if he’s been betrayed, or if Reborn was trying to help in some way - possibly by spying on the Varia, or negotiating with the other Arcobaleno within the group. “Cervello-sama, my opponent is amongst the audience; surely he should be on the field where I may bite him to death.”

He facepalms. “_Senpai_!”

“If we have to be present as a set of seven, then so do your opponents, koneko-chan. And he _harmed_ you.” The words are murmured behind the unfurled tessen, which was then flicked through an intricate pattern of signals to no-one in particular, as far as he can tell, at least, but he suspects the Committee is arranged around the compound. “There will be no battle until there are a Cloud and a Rain on the field, if only so they do not try and cry foul. I am sure, given what my men have found, that they can find a Rain to take the field, but there are no other Clouds in Namimori unless Tsuyoshi has summoned ji-san to join his fun.”

“Dare I ask, Hibari-senpai?”

“The herbivores have taken precautions; I took precautions against them doing so. Haha-ue was happy to lend me men to do so.” He shakes his head, sighing, and Takeshi laughs.

“I thought I’d followed the tessen signals right. You want them to let tou-san play, don’t you?” Hibari smiles, wolfishly, just as the Varia burst through one of the walls in a display that makes his Cloud’s Flames flare, and his smile turns sharper, just as Reborn lands on his shoulder.

“Make the report quick, false-carnivore; the herbivores were late, and the Cervello are impatient to die.”

“What the fuck are you _wearing_?!” The words spill from Reborn’s lips without any real thought, and Takeshi growls, and he sighs, pinching his nose.

“They are wearing armor. Older than your Stupid Family. Given my lack of an appropriate opponent, I am wearing something suitable for my natal rank. Now, _report_, or be bitten to death.” He winces, expecting Leon to transform into a mallet, but Reborn refrains.

“Xanxus is pissed.”

“Che. Learn to give a fucking report. We knew that much already.” He slaps a hand over his Storm’s mouth just as the Cervello scurry over to the Varia to inform them that they were required to be seven. Xanxus scowls and blows the head of one of the Cervello, revealing them as a Mist construct - he’s totally not surprised - and then there’s a murmured argument, and Hibari flicks the tessen again, showing off the lacquered violet surface again. A Rain in the same uniform is allowed through, though the man is clearly unhappy about being summoned forward, and Mist Flames wrap around the Vongola Ninth much to the clear irritation of the man’s Guardians, starting another argument.

“The need is for a Cloud, Vongola-sama. Your Cloud may step in, if he is present, or you, yourself must take the field.” Iemitsu twitches, leaning over to murmur something in the Ninth’s ear. The man nods, and the Mist Flames wrap around him instead, making the Ninth and his Guardians stiffen. “You will be bound from harming those on your side, Sawada Iemitsu. We have no desire to see the actions of the earlier battles repeated.”

“May we, Tsuna? Please?” Takeshi’s bouncing on his toes, and he nods, making both his Rain and Cloud smile wicked smiles, and Kintoki-sama vibrate eagerly.

“Che. Mammon first, idiots. Bakamitsu’s going to avoid getting involved until he has to. He wants our tenjō-tama as a puppet, so the Arcobaleno’s more dangerous.”

“All participants will wear the following bracelets.” One of the Cervello holds up an item, the woman then duplicating fourteen times as Chrome materialises with them. “They will allow us to monitor the arena, and ensure the battle is properly recorded.” The bracelets are snapped unceremoniously in place, and Hayato shakes his head mournfully and murmurs subvocally ‘… and to deliver the poison’. Each Guardian will return to the site of their first matches; the Skies will begin here. Combat will start in ten minutes, and will continue until one side is victorious."

Chrome and Mammon linger, invisible as the others wind their ways to their designated start points, and he feels a clinging privacy veil around them both, cutting them off from the audience. He bows, reaching an angle close to ninety degrees, and Xanxus freezes.

“What do you want, trash? I recognise the way you’re dressed, and that shitty bow means I’m not going to like it.”

“This lowly one would like to ask his itoko to take him as an apprentice after these battles. He has been told that Xanxus di Vongola is a master weaponsmith, and this lowly one must learn the art for his own reasons.”

“And, trash?”

“This lowly one’s Guardians wish to sate their thirst for blood on your Cloud substitute for the loss of a childhood with their Sky and this lowly one would ask your permission for that.”

“Shit, is that it, brat? Teach you to make guns and shit, and let your bloodthirsty Clouds take that sack of piss's head off? Sure. Even if I kill you, he won’t survive the day. And I’ll take you as an apprentice one way or the fucking other, if we both survive, if only because the old man’ll hate that.”

“This lowly one is very appreciative, itoko.”

“Now shut up with the fucking ‘lowly one’ and get out of that Stupid bow. And give me a fucking good fight. If you want to be Don, I expect you to kick my fucking _ass_.” He sighs in relief, standing up, thanking every deity he could think of for Kintoki-sama teaching him the right forms between orgasms over the course of the afternoon. “Since when did you grow a pair, brat? All you were doing earlier in the week was shrieking and giving me a fucking headache.”

“The Asari in my set staged an intervention.”

_\--- Begin ---_


	4. Chapter 4

“What are you waiting for, trash?”

“To see which of my own needs help first, itoko-sama. I was warned that the Cervello like poison.” The Flames in his cousin’s eyes flare in irritation. “I’d have warned you, itoko, but I assumed - given what Hayato’s told me - that your own would be fairly resistant to it, and my father would have intervened if I’d tried to get near you today.” Xanxus laughs, saluting him with one of his guns.

“You’re probably right, trash. And if they’re not, it’ll motivate them to get better.” The other Sky grins, toothily. “I’m kicking Cavallone’s ass after this. If he wants to fuck my Shark he needs to man up and ask.” He tilts his head, curious, but Xanxus points his guns at the ground and fires them, taking to the Sky and he follows, shaping his Flames into wings.

He dodges Xanxus’s bullets almost mindlessly - his cousin isn’t really trying to hit him - while getting a feel for the wings that Hayato has suggested he use, as well as a feel for the battlefield.

(‘Boss, Flames are about Will and imagination. You saw how Mukuro and Mammon used them during their fight, right? And yakyuu-baka’s been showing off, too. If you want to fly, why not give yourself wings?’)

He reaches out carefully through the bonds Kintoki-sama had helped him recognise (the sword-spirit has been surprised to find there were four - now five with Kyōya - but he hadn’t been; Chrome made him feel protective) and check on his own; all of them clearly have poison in their systems - Hayato was already in the process of burning it out fully, and the others had it stymied in some way.

“Your trash are surprisingly good, brat. Not trying for straight match ups was the only tactic that was going to work; which of yours has the tactical brain?”

“My oiran.” Using that as a descriptor for Hayato makes him want to squirm and blush, but it’s fairly accurate for all that his Storm is untrained (but wants to be; Hayato had thoroughly enjoyed being instructed in oiran skills, and hadn’t hissed at the way his obi was tied). “I think he learned from his ji-san. Senpai and ‘Keshi both have other specialties and Reborn certainly hasn’t taught me yet.”

“Trash, you have an _oiran_? And the fuck, that was a rhetorical fucking question. Hasn’t your trashy tutor taught you anything about operational secrecy?”

He laughs, infuriating his cousin a little, judging by the bullets he has to dodge. “You have our Hyper Intuition, too. Distraction and/or unpredictability is my best weapon; I mean ‘Keshi’s already knocked your substitute Rain out, and Itō and Tetsuya have killed that ridiculous Lightning of yours. Which I didn’t tell them to do, but I guess he wasn’t bonded, right? And I did tell them not to die for me -“

“Trash, stop fucking babbling at me. If your Cloud’s trash were good enough to take Levi out, congratu-fucking-lations. He’s a fucking cockroach and one of your father’s most irritating infiltrators into my territory.” He folds his wings and dives, leaving Xanxus alone, hovering in the sky at the panicked flare of Mist Flames; his itoko only takes a moment to follow him, and he makes a small unhappy noise at the action, spiralling into a faster dive. He hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know Chrome, but she’d fitted into his Flames so neatly that he couldn’t help but want to protect her.

There’s a flare of Sky and Cloud Flames on the other side of the school, and he can feel Takeshi circling closer and closer to that conflagration, Kintoki-sama’s blood hunger almost vibrating between the four of them; he trusted his own, though, and Kyōya-senpai’s wakagashira were now hunting Belphegor to free Hayato up to help Chrome. But he wasn’t there _yet_, and Chrome was injured and up against an Arcobaleno. He lands in the ruined gymnasium - the Cervello had dropped all of the illusions on the school - and wraps his wings around Chrome just as the tiny Mist wraps tentacles around both of them and _squeezes_.

The wings hold. “Stand down, Mammon.” His itoko’s voice is surprisingly soft and soothing. “Go monitor the Cloud field; the brat’s got multiple Clouds under his Sky and he’s asked for a boon I’m entirely willing to grant. And one that I want recorded.” The Mist scowls, but inclines their head. “Fetch us Lussuria, before you do though.”

“This lowly one is grateful, itoko. This isn’t something this lowly one bargained for.”

“Trash, don’t make me shoot you in the head just when you’re getting entertaining. I haven’t had anyone worth playing with since the old trash fucked up and got my brothers killed. Your Mist is walking and talking and fucking trying to fight with nothing but wishes and hope in her fucking abdomen and I’ve got a bored Sun who specialises in fucking miracles I’d rather your Clouds didn’t kill. Your shitty old man’s minions got him with a flame-inhibitor before his match and the shit didn’t tell me his self-healing was fucked.”

“Does that make me a magical girl?” Chrome coughs and laughs. “Bossu, the Vendicare put Mukuro-sama back in the tank.”

“Only if you wear paler colours, trash, and show off your bust. Not that you’ve got one yet.” His Mist giggles, and the green mohawk’d Sun from Ryohei’s fight appears in a shimmer of Mist, the Arcobaleno vanishing, and the man tilts his head as if to ask him a question. “Medical challenge. Fix her and I’ll let you off for not telling me about the fucking inhibitor. Brat’s trash have dealt with Levi and are playing with Idiotsu now.” Chrome makes a small sound, and holds up the Ring, offering it to Xanxus, and he nods; it was a small price to pay for helping her. “At least you’ve got some honour, brat. You’ll need to learn a new fucking code though, if you’re going to swim in a bigger fucking pond. You do realise your sword-trash put Squalo in a really shitty fucking mood with that blunt edge shit?”

He rubs the back of his head like Takeshi and then squeaks at the realisation he’s copied the gesture. “There’s an explanation for it?” Xanxus snorts and waves one of his pistols. “Later. We need to move before the Cervello try to redirect our Storms in this direction to make things more entertaining.” He spreads his wings, flapping them and then spiralling upwards on one of the erratic thermals the fires around the compound were causing. He beats his wings lazily, eyes shut, leaning into his Flames, wrapping them around himself until he can feel _everything_.

(Kintoki-sama had been there when Ugetsu had helped Giotto learn to use his Flames, and knew what the Italians based their techniques on. But he’d also been there for other Skies, and when Giotto became Ieyasu. _No-one_ knew more about his Flames and his intuition than his Rain’s sword-spirit. Even telling Xanxus that they both needed to be unpredictable wouldn’t help his itoko _that_ much.)

He circles higher, feeling Hayato growing increasingly frustrated with Belphegor as the two of them hunt each other through the main school building, and then folds his wings and drops - his cousin was five hundred foot lower than he was, at least a little bit distracted by the way Kyōya-senpai was showing off in his court kimono, and he wants to laugh at the way his senpai is apparently Sky-nip - crashing into Xanxus, and sending him crashing through the middle of the area his Cloud was playing in before looping back to give the Ninth a scare and help Hayato. And to see why Dino-nii felt so very smug.

Dino-nii felt very smug because he had Takeshi’s opponent trussed up in pale orange rope, slung over his shoulder, and he can feel the barely restrained Rain and Cloud Flames. (His itoko’s face when he told him that it was Kintoki-sama’s fault that Squalo was bruised not cut was going to be hysterical. Especially when he told him it was because Kintoki-sama wanted to try adding him to the Asari bloodline via Tsuyoshi. Something about swordsmanship breeding surprisingly true.) He flaps his wings, judging his angles - the dives were surprisingly good fun and therapeutic - and then folds his wings, streaking Sky Flames within a hair’s breadth of Bouche Croquant’s hair, burning it and disrupting the Mist Flames he was trying to use on the Cervello, and then snatching up the boy who looked like he could be his twin, just to see if he could. The barriers were supposed to protect the audience, but his Intuition said they were flawed, and if he could grab Basil, he could grab Dino to use as a distraction for Kyōya. (He didn’t _want_ to win. The throne was his itoko’s, but he had to make this real and had to make it spectacular, and leave enough hints that it hadn’t been a _fair_ scramble for afterwards. And being able to terrorise/steal the audience would make _that_ clear.)

He’s successful. Though Mammon does momentarily appear and snatch up his twin, which puzzles him; his father wasn’t dead yet. He shrugs and spirals back up on one of the thermals just as Mammon copies him and snatches Squalo and Dino from the witness box; turning his back on the Cervello and the Ninth - and his indignant Guardians - he spreads his wings and beats them slowly, looking for his itoko, and trying to puzzle out why Mammon had stolen his nii-san as well as his fellow Guardian. Maybe it had been to annoy Reborn?

The sudden absence of his father’s Sky Flames steals the breath from his lungs, and he plummets almost two hundred feet before he manages to make himself spread his wings and turn the fall into a controlled glide towards the Cloud combat zone. He and Xanxus land on opposite sides of the area, careful, given how public the space is - and the nature of the recording Mammon’s making - not to make it look like they’re conspiring.

“Shit, brat, warn a fucking Sky before bringing a Sky-killer onto the field.”

He shrugs, lets his lip curl and channels Kintoki-sama and Takeshi and Hayato, borrows the steel in their spines, and snarls his answer back. “All of your own carry them, itoko, and my Rain carried that blade into the Aquarion; how can it be my fault you didn’t recognise Kintoki-sama?”

“Voooiii! If your shitty ally hadn’t fucking kidnapped me, brat, I’d have told him about that ridiculous living blade your shitty Rain wields.” Xanxus’s barely concealed look of relief as Squalo appears next to him - there’s a faint haze of Mist Flames, he presumes to hide Xanxus’s momentary slip from the cameras - makes something uncurl in his gut. “Boss, why the fuck are we fucking monologuing? The shitty brats are right _there_.”

Except that Mammon takes that as their cue to throw a flustered Dino at an outraged Kyōya; there’s a flare of an entertaining battle there, Kyōya’s wakagashira fading into the shadows to watch for interference in their Boss’s playtime, and he almost applauds the way the Mist has managed to level the playing field by distracting his Cloud and his substitute Lightning and Sun. “Because the shitty brats did us two fucking favours while you were getting fucked silly by your pet. They killed Levi and they killed Idiotsu, and they did it legally and with fucking _style_.”

“Voooiii. You sound fucking fond, shitty Boss. Aren’t we supposed to be killing them?”

“Nah. We’re fucking keeping the little shits. Apprentices or fuck-toys; either’d be fun and fix the inheritance issue that’s got the old man’s knickers in a twist.” Xanxus makes a broad gesture at the field. “Shit, shark, if you don’t want the Cloud Guardian post I’ll contract that one to terrify the trash; it’ll be fucking hilarious.” He shakes his head, amused by his itoko’s words, and his performance for the Vongola Ninth. Dino and Kyōya would both turn on anyone that tried to break up their flirting, and Kyōya’s wakagashira would help them; that left Mammon, who seemed to be content to avoid combat, and Belphegor who was still doggedly trying to kill a less than amused Hayato. Takeshi was skulking in the shadows, trying to figure out how best to draw Squalo into another fight - the Rain had been told about Kintoki-sama’s plan, and wasn’t sure he approved - so he’d have to go to Hayato’s aid.

“Voooiii. You’re not giving me _two_ sections to administer, shitty Boss! You’ve got no fucking Clouds, and I’d just finished dragging the shitty Rains up to minimum standards -”

“- then you shouldn’t have sprouted the fucking Cloud Flames in response to getting well-fucked, shitty shark. If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have done it before we went rat hunting -” he snickers and burns a hole through the roof, dropping down into one of the school computer labs. (The Ninth would pay for the damages, or Kyōya would make him, and he would pay to watch that at this point; his father had been so _smug_ when he’d stepped onto the field in the Ninth’s place that he was fairly sure he’d been one of the strongest fighters the Ninth had access to.)

“If the Prince wants to buy your contract, Smoking Bomb, for the Prince’s exclusive use, how much will it cost? A thousand yen?” He winces at the blatant insult couched in achingly polite words, and wonders if his itoko really _needed_ this _specific_ Storm. He slides into the shadows, radiating a little of his Flames in one of the patterns Kintoki-sama had taught him to hide his presence.

“_A thousand yen_.” Hayato’s voice is surprisingly level and he raises a mental eyebrow; he’d expected that particular barb to make Hayato Rage given how eagerly he’d taken to being his. “Even when I was still in Italy, I never took a contract for less than ten thousand euros.”

The blond Storm snickers, and he facepalms as he realises Hayato hadn’t put all the pieces together. “That wasn’t what the Prince meant, Smoking Bomb. The Prince sees the way you’re dressed and wishes to know how much to buy the Smoking Bomb’s contract as a _courtesan_; the peasant has an attractive ass, has clearly been claimed and trained by an Imperial Clan, and the Prince must have the very finest things available.” That does make Hayato blow up. Almost literally; did he and Bianchi-san’s clan have some sort of gift that varied depending on their Flame? She poisoned things, Hayato touched them and they blew up? Because watching Belphegor have to deal with his wires detonating was sort of spectacular, though rather dangerous. Especially given the way he’d reacted to bleeding during the Storm battle.

He wraps his Flames around his Storm, trying to coax him into calming down enough to think through his actions rather than being goaded into simply reacting as Belphegor clearly _wanted_ him to. (Hayato would be gutted if he lost the battle because he’d lost his head.)

His Storm takes a deep breath, and draws the tanto rather than more explosives, and he curls more of his Flames around Hayato. The Bloody Prince tilts his head and looks confused. “The Prince doesn’t understand, peasant.”

“If I have an exclusive contract with anyone, Belphegor of the Varia, it’s my Sky.” He grins, and slips through the shadows behind the two verbally sparring Storms. He was going to _enjoy_ Hayato’s explosive response after everything was done. Including to the fact that he didn’t want to be the Vongola Tenth.

“Such a shame.” The two Storms match each other, blade to blade. Kintoki-sama thrums in amusement at the back of his mind, and Uri’s purr rumbles in his bones. “I will have to petition him for a taste of your pretty ass, Hayato.” His Storm squeaks and throws Belphegor backwards with a flare of Cloud Flames that makes him squirm; there’s something dark and delicious about his own getting territorial. “I want to untie your obi and lay you out on the floor of a training room, and _ruin_ your pretty ass. Do you think he’d let me do so?”

“Che. Tsuna’s possessive. He won’t even let yakyuu-baka touch me at the moment.” He snickers. He’d let Takeshi touch Hayato if Takeshi was ready to do the touching. It’d be _pretty_.

“Shame.”

The base of one of his itoko’s pistols presses to the base of his skull and he swallows very very carefully. “Do not make me pull the trigger, trash. Mammon’s going to use their Flames to lift your half of the Ring, I’m going to put it on, and then you’re going to demonstrate your submission for me. Your mouth will do.” A thin tendril of Mist curls around it, breaking the chain, and his itoko makes a pleased sound as the pieces click together and slides it onto his fingers. He makes a small sound of his own in the back of his throat as he realises that retrieving the Ring wasn’t the only thing the Mist has done. Hayato was wrapped in the tendrils, mouth gagged, matched be Belphegor, both wide eyed. “The shark-trash told me about that sword, brat.”

He nods very very careful, and his itoko shifts the pistol from the back of his head and circles around him, one hand flicking his fly open. Xanxus’s cock is thick and rapidly hardening and he whines as his body throbs; he wants it in his sheath, but this was all his itoko was asking for right now. He presses his hands together behind his back and kisses the head of his itoko’s cock just as he presses the pistol to his temple and that only made things worse; it was almost as if Kintoki-sama was inside him, filling his sheath and he opens his mouth properly just as Xanxus drags him closer and fuck, this was different from practising on Kintoki-sama. Xanxus’s cock was hot, musky and demanding in ways he didn’t fully understand.

“The thing you missed, brat, is that i’m just as much an assassin as any of my trash, and my father cheated hard to beat me before.” He swallows around the cock in his mouth and Xanxus forces the head of it into his throat, making him whine and choke on it. “And then you fucking _motivated_ me, brat.” He drools and hums in pleasure as Xanxus rocks his hips, taking what he wants from his throat. “Do you know how much fucking fun we’re going to have in my suite, let alone my forge?” He makes a small sound and curls his Flames and the cock in his throat pulses, pouring cum into his belly and sending both of them reeling as he followed suit.

* * *

“… I think that’s the first time _that’s_ happened.”

“Only because you were a coward, Giotto, …”


	5. Chapter 5

He opens his eyes cautiously, finding himself abruptly stood next to Xanxus rather than knelt in front of him with his cock in his mouth, and pulls cautiously on the bond to Kintoki-sama; the sword-spirit answers, wrapping himself around him, and there’s a hiss of indrawn breath from the direction of the voices. “_Ugetsu?_”

“What the fuck, trash?”

“Thought Squalo told you about my Rain’s living sword, itoko?”

“Fuck, that word sounds _filthy_ with my cum on your tongue, brat.”

“Oh, I’ve already swallowed _that_.”

“I _like_ you, brat. See, everyone would have much happier if you’d knelt for me, Giotto." Kintoki laughs behind him and presses a kiss just behind his ear.

“He didn’t yield for Ugetsu, either, Ricardo. I was so very disappointed.” There’s laughter, and the sword-spirit slides his hand down to cup his arousal. One of the presences steps forward enough to become visible, and he shivers in appreciation; they’re a taller, older version of the man he’d just knelt for. “Want to come and play with me and my Sky, Ricardo? I have a true Sky-smith bound to me, finally. He’s already kindled.”

“Given Giotto and I’s idiot shared Mist is running around, perhaps I should come and … reason with him.” The presence, Flames so similar to Xanxus’s steps closer. “Are you willing to share with me, great-grandson? He’s your prize for winning the scramble, after all.”

“What’s in it for me?” Ricardo laughs, reaching out to his itoko, and pulling him to himself.

“Legitimacy. And I know how to unbind Giotto’s silly little curse on the Rings, too.” Xanxus makes an interested sound, and his eyes flick down to him.

“Willing, brat?” 

Kintoki laughs, the hand pressed over his cock still gently rubbing at his erection; it’s only gotten harder, and he might have the same kink Hayato does about letting someone else decide what to do with his body. “Oh, my pretty sheath is very willing. He’s rock hard and grinding against my hand, and it’s only the fact that I haven’t established how much of an exhibitionist he is that’s stopped me pushing him to the floor to fuck.” He shivers, and whines. “Speaking of which, tenjō-tama, do you need a cock in your pretty sheath? Does the audience bother you?” He nods and then shakes his head, and the sword-spirit laughs. “Yes to needing a cock, and no to being bothered about the audience, right?” He nods more vigorously, and Secondo laughs, pulling Xanxus closer to himself.

“Let’s treat the little Sky well, Xanxus. He deserves it for all he’s going to do for you - and for the fact he let you win so stylishly.”

“Hiiieee! You _noticed_ that -”

“It was very well done, little one. I especially liked the subtle murder to make the world better; Giotto never had the balls for that sort of chaos.”

“He’s adorable.” He flushes in embarrassment at the low-but-distinctly l-feminine voice. “Much more so than my idiot child. Feel free to send him to us prematurely; I need to remind him of the principles I beat into his ass. And once I have, perhaps you would exorcise him from the ring, Kintoki-sama? I know you can do so -”

“As much as I’m amused, Daniela, you’re stopping me getting my cock wet for the first time in two centuries; unless you’re going to take our little Sky’s place, go terrorise Giotto for me.” The feminine presence salutes with a laugh. 

“All you had to do was ask at some point; I had such a crush on you, Ricardo.” Xanxus is a shade of red that’s hysterical, and he turns and buries his head in Kintoki-sama’s chest; the sword-spirit’s also laughing. “Enjoy yourself, little one; and perhaps I’ll join you at some point, Ricardo. Especially if he finds someone I’d like to fight with -” 

Kintoki-sama unties his obi and slides his hand inside his yukata and he whines, and then the sword-spirit makes an amused sound and vanishes the clothes, leaving him buck-naked. Fingers slide around his hips, lifting him off his toes and spreading his ass cheeks, showing off his hole to the audience, before hooking fingers into his body, stretching him achingly wide, demonstrating just how slick and easy to play with he’d become. There’s a hungry sound from the audience, and then Xanxus is crowding him and pressing into his ass, and he shrieks in pleasure at the sensation of being held up purely by the cock impaling him.

“Greedy boy.” Ricardo takes him from Kintoki-sama, claiming his mouth and encouraging him to wrap his legs around his waist. “Is that any way to treat such a treasure? Especially one who’s given you everything you want on a silver platter. If the yōkai he pulled in here with us is who and what I think he is, our pretty kitten will even give you an heir or three, ones that recombine the Vongola lines.” Xanxus nips at his throat, and he whines as he’s lifted almost off his itoko’s cock, and then pulled firmly down onto two. They stretch him so wide that he shrieks, muscles spasming in pleasure, cum spraying across the older Sky’s belly in clear demonstration of his enjoyment of his state.

But that doesn’t stop the pair from bouncing him on their cocks, and he begs, and whines, and clings to Ricardo, eyes fixed on Kintoki-sama, who has the smuggest smile on his lips, and Uri on his shoulder, and still the two Wraths keep fucking him with easy strength that makes him whine, and then Kintoki-sama presses against Xanxus’s back, and reaches around to stroke his cock. “He carries the seeds of two spirits to remake the gloves he wears into something more fitting for his nature; shall we add two seeds for new guns for you, Xanxus di Varia, Vongola Decimo? You will need new weapons for your inauguration, after all; will need my sons to stand by your side and defend you from harm, for my sheath wants to keep you -” he shudders, and nods, making Ricardo laugh, and nip at his throat. “- wants to kneel at your feet and learn from you, and spread his legs in your bed for you to sire your heirs on him. You won’t be the only one he submits to, though; can you cope with that?”

“Will you be jealous, brat, if when you’re gone, I have my shark tied to the bed with a cock stuffed in his throat?” He shivers, muscles clenching around the cocks in his ass, and the younger Wrath laughs at the response, making Ricardo shake his head and press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“S’a pretty image. But I think Kintoki-sama wants to see what Squalo can add to the Asari?” The sword-spirit laughs, and nips at Xanxus’s collarbone and strokes his cock, twisting more tension in his belly.

“I do. His silver hair tangled in my former wielder’s hand as he rams his cock into him will be very pretty, tenjō-tama. Almost as pretty as it will be when you decide to let my wielder fuck your bearer full of kits for the clan.”

“When I have you spread beneath me, he can fuck where he pleases, brat. Your ass will make a fine distraction from him wandering.” He whines, wriggling, and Kintoki-sama’s hand radiates cool pleasure into his abdomen, making him shriek and clamp tight around the cocks in his belly, and the two Wraths fucking him follow him over the edge, spraying cum - both cool, and scorchingly hot - inside him. He’s left gasping, and he whines when the cocks inside him soften and slip free of his body; he feels empty and he’s rapidly learning to hate the sensation.

Kintoki-sama steals him from between the two men, a smile on his lips. “Negotiate, pretty Wraths, while I finish sating my tenjō-tama. My sweet sheath is crying out for my sword, and I’m going to give it to him until he’s content.” He swats at the sword-spirit, exhausted, and Kintoki laughs, and presses him to the floor of the odd space they’re in, folding him almost in half and pushing into his slack and messy hole. Kintoki-sama fucks him with short, sharp thrusts, making him whine and beg, and scratch at the sword-spirit, desperate for another orgasm, desperate for what he’s been teased with. “Beautiful little tenjō-tama. So good for me. Such a welcoming little sheath for my sword; will you kindle for me again? Give Xanxus two of my sons to guard him so you never have to worry about the Italians, and so your children by him will be grown before they have to even consider being the ones that manage the Underworld? After all, you’ll be busy enough with the Ukiyo, sweetling.” Kintoki-sama’s hand gently strokes his soft cock, petting it, coaxing it awake again, and he shakes his head, unable to deal with a third orgasm in such quick succession. “Shhh. This is a spirit-space, little tenjō-tama. You don’t have to worry about your normal limits; it’s why you could take both the pretty Wraths at once without having to work up to it. I want you to cum for me again, want you to kindle so we can help protect your pretty daimyo, kitten.”

He shrieks, the sound echoing around the space, cock hardening and pulsing with his pleasure almost within the same breath and he sprawls, panting on the sword-spirit’s thick cock. He shakes his head when Kintoki-sama starts stroking him again, and he whines, but more and more pleasure is pressed on him, until he’s shaking with it, desperate and he feels two bright stars joined by two more, and the world goes bright white and sharp, and he drops back into Hayato’s arms in the real world.

Xanxus kneels next to him, presses a hand to his face, eyes wide. “Shit, trash. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”

“No fucking clue. But m’enjoying it.”

“Yeah, from the looks of you, you really are. Shit, it’s almost a shame you killed your shitty old man off; his face, if I walked out to announce my win with you bouncing on my cock, would be hysterical. Want to see if we can give my old man apoplexy?”

“Not in front of Reborn.” He shudders. “He’s spent so long pretending to be two -”

“Mou. I can get rid of him; normally there would be a fee, little Sky, though given the entertainment you’ve provided tonight, that fee can be waived.” 

Xanxus barks a laugh. “Shit, brat, you sure you shouldn’t be the one with oiran knot in your obi?”

“You sure you don’t want to be Don, Tsuna-kun?” Xanxus freezes, the sharp edge of Shigure Kintoki’s blade resting against his spine.

“I’m sure, Takeshi. And he’s got a _very_ nice cock, -” his Rain laughs, and the sword shifts back to his shinai form. 

“Where’s my shark, brat?”

“Tied up downstairs. I think Dino-nii fucked him hard enough he wasn’t much of a fight? He kept wincing when I made him do something athletic, and it made beating him easy. I tied him back up for otousan to play with.” Mammon snickers beneath their hood, and snaps their fingers.

“Mou. Reborn and Colonello are on the Island, little Sky. Do you object to me watching your pleasure? I am no child -” He shakes his head, and the Mist’s lips curve in amusement. “- and Squalo-chan needs to consider the offer I made, Boss. Especially if he’s going to keep attracting well-endowed partners.”

“Noted.” Xanxus scoops him up out of Hayato’s arms, making his Storm whine, but the Wrath presses his Flames on him, making his tantō-bearer do the mental equivalent of rolling over and baring his throat. “Don’t worry, brat. He’s mine to guard, too, now. My apprentice and my Donna, even if he won’t fill _all_ of the role. Anyone threatens him and I’ll put a bullet in their balls and then their head.” Takeshi laughs.

“Good. Tsuna needs people to keep him out of trouble.” 

“Yakyuu-baka -”

“Tsuna, can I borrow baka-dera for a few hours?” He tries to decide in what sense the Rain means his question, and then sighs, and stops trying; thinking with Xanxus’s Flames pressed against him, and Kintoki-sama’s sparks in his belly is _challenging_. 

“Sure. I think I might be kinda busy for a bit -” Kintoki-sama snickers, fading into existence beside his wielder. 

“May I play with your bearer as well, little tenjō-tama? He needs wound down from the fight.”

“If he wants you to, anata.” The sword-spirit shivers, and Takeshi laughs, swooping in to catch up Hayato. “Takeshi-kun, paint Hayato’s surrender for me, please?”

“Of course, Tsuna-kun.” Takeshi presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m taking Squalo to otousan, too; I’ll come and find you in the morning. Enjoy yourself?” He hums in sleepy agreement.

“You can sleep on my cock once we’ve finished the game, brat. Mammon, make the brat’s clothes go away enough for this to be fun?”

“Mou. That is still within the terms of our earlier deal.” The Mist’s Flames curl against his skin, as they debate something, and then they tilt their head. “To make this victory … tidier: shall I return the others to their preferred play spaces, Boss? Luss and his patient to the hotel, Kintoki-sama and his toys to the Asari and Fon’s nephew and his to the Hibari.” Xanxus nods sharply, and Mist Flames surge, leaving him covered in little more than a sleep yukata, and his own gone; he reaches for them, to check, and finds them complacent and pleased, and he thrusts some of his arousal and exhaustion and contentment through their bonds to reassure them further.

“Ready for this, brat?” He nods, and Xanxus shifts him in his arms, unzipping his fly, and he sighs, and cuddles closer to the other Sky as Xanxus pushes into his body, his sheath slick and ready and he hums in satisfaction. “Fuck, your _ass_, brat. I’ve had high priced courtesans who haven’t felt so fucking good on my cock.” He snickers, wrapping his legs around Xanxus’s hips, and the Wrath adjusting the fall of the yukata. “Mammon, make sure I don’t drop the brat, or fall over anything, and when the shitty old men have seen us, then straight to my fucking bed so I can really fucking _enjoy_ this. A hole this sweet deserves _worship_ and hard use.” The Mist laughs, and he’s bounced on Xanxus’s cock as they walk through the ruined building and out into the area in front of the audience - cut down to just the Ninth and his Guardians after his thefts, and there’s an incoherent spluttering sound before his back’s being pressed to a soft surface, and Xanxus is fucking into his body hard and fast, calloused hand stroking his cock, driving him so close to the edge that he wants to scream. The Wrath swallows the sound, mouth hot and eager, and he wallows in it. “Such a fucking treasure, brat. Gonna have to sit on my fucking throne and hold court with you on my cock at some point. Make the trash kiss the goddamn Ring while I stroke your pretty little prick and show you off to them.”

He whimpers and Xanxus presses him more harshly into the bed, the cool leather of his uniform making for a sharp contrast with the heat of the cock in his ass. He clings to him, pleasure rippling through his body, and cums, clamping down tight around Xanxus’s thick cock; his pleasure is answered with the other Sky’s, his hips jerking, thrusts raggedy and his sheath overstimulated. Not that that stops him from trying to milk the rest of Xanxus’s pleasure from him, hungry for the Flames and chi that would offer him.

He whines when Xanxus pulls out of his body, cold and shivering without his warmth, and the Wrath strips with indecent haste, showing off the expanse of scars that makes him wince, and realise why the other Sky hated his own father as much as he’d hated Iemitsu, before returning to the bed. “Brat, why are you so cold?”

“Seal side-effects. Kintoki-koi says it’ll take time to finish fixing them yet. Needed to get the fight done.”

“Shit. That’s why you gave in to the sword, isn’t it?” Xanxus wraps around him, pressing burningly hot skin against him, cock nudging between his thighs. “Better a yōkai’s toy than Sealed, right?”

“Not toy, but yes. Struck a fun bargain with Kintoki-koi.” He tugs Xanxus’s arm over him, pulling at the other Sky until he’s two-thirds of the way under him, the man’s cock slipping back into his hole, and purrs in pleasure at being comfortable. “Can sleep now, Xanxus?” He slurs the question and the taller Sky presses him more firmly into the mattress.

“Sure, brat. I can use your pretty hole as I wish while you’re in my bed, right?” He nods, and lets the warmth and the pleasure roll over him, dragging him down towards sleep. “Shit, brat. I wish I’d got to you first so you’d be all mine. But I’ll take what I can have.” The words are murmured, and he shivers, body clenching, and sleep swallows him whole.


End file.
